St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-05-29
DEATH!
[Bv Sarah Bernhardt.]
1 have a great love of death.


have great love of death.
l am sure | do no not show this
strange affection half as much as the
wOrl1 thinks.
An actress must necessarily think
something about the end of existence,
for she is so often called upon to por-
tray it.
No thoughtful artist who has spent
her years in studing the mysterious mo-
| ment when the soul leaves the body,
without peeping beyond the portals
that lead to the other life.
When one has begun to think on
death, there are but two ways of acting.
We can put our hands to our ears,
shut our eyes and run away from the
monster.
Or else we can look calmly into the
hollow eyes of the Deaths head and ae-
custom ourselves to that which must
inevitably oyertake US.
No truly great actress can dispense
with special study of the death agony
and all the moods and feelings which
lead up to the supreme moment.
If l have succeeded at all as an artist
it has been because of this study.
An artist does not often analyZe the
methods by which result is attained.
The public never understands this
thiZe with it.
All art is founded upon observation
and experience.
A woman who has never loved can
not give substance to the emotion on
the stage.
One must even be capable of hate to
give the great roles their significance.
To attempt to make the great TRACE
dies sound, with real feeling, there must
be the awful reality impressed upon the
mind and taking possession for the mo-
ment of all the faculties.
The study of Death is an art by itself
and very difficult art.
The painter has living models before
him, and here experience is the smallest
element which he must take into ac-
count.
He sees with his eyes. He is not called
upon to see with his soul.
1t is perfectly true that have slept in
coffin. 1t was very valuable ex-
perience. Nothing so thoroughly taught
me the resignation of death as this
apparently crude experiment.
A coffin is the modern symbol. 1t is
a horrible object, and all our aSSocia-
lions of childhood have made it stand
for death.
To sleep in a coffin in darkness is
almost to die.
In the morning you are surprised to
be alive.
1 carry my Deaths head with me.
have it among my effects.
l have ceased to use it. You NAV
smile. 1t has been valuable property
of my art, and l prize it for the very
reason that others see in it only cp-
arice.ss
A caprice! How else than by a
caprice is it possible to enter into eX-
perienceS forbidden, except to those
who have passed to their graves?
Caprice is the foundation of art, and
under its showers grow the flowers of
genius.
necessary to study the moods which
precede death as death itself. l might
say that this is the only study.
We never really die upon the stage,
and only melodramatic actors attempt
to make anything of death scenes, more
than is absolutely necessary.
syzThe most perfect death preceded by
imperfect modes of feeling would be an
absurdity.
There is always a road to death, and
one must know that road well to get
there on the stage.
Among my stage deaths l count "Fe-
dora" as an extremely unsatisfactory
one.
NJ. Sardou has not given me enough
time to die.
| have been compelled, therefore, in
spite of my convictions, to indicate more
strongly than l like, the symptoms of
poisoning.
But if you have noticed me well you
will have seen that the determination to
die is made apparent early in the act
and even emphasized.
-, -, hot tt,f do
the text is not sufficient for the purpose.
Now, Camille" is great death.
The nature of the story happily helped
out somewhat mediocre talent of the
son of NJ. Dumas.
BY the very nature of the story, the
death is prolonged one.
In addition must concede that it is
very natural.
| know that too well.
My sister died just such death.
Can any one not an artist conceive the
pleasure of playing such part; acting
slow death upon the stage?
1t is the highest artistic delight posi-
bic to great artist, and you can easily
see, if you stop to think, that these
deaths must necessarily be more artistic
than those which end in contortions.
And these latter are mere gymnastics;
whereas such deaths as occur in plays
like Camille" require great knowledge
and great art.
To make what is simple interesting,
this is the true opportunity of genius.
Nothing is gained by false originality.
or feats of strength are better i'll the
circus than on the stage,
l have devoted two of my modest
works of art to death.
l suppose l made these two pieces be-
cause l had something to express in
them.
My painting, the young Girl and
DEATH" was drawn from model, all
but the face, and, of course, Death.
cannot paint well. L do not preteud
to do so. But my strong sympathy with
the subject gave, l believe, the proper
expression to that young girls face.
1t is absolute innocence.
Death has her in his grasp, and, happy
thing! she does not know it.
My other work-the piece of sculp-
ture, after the Storm"-is well done.
am fair hand atsculpture, and this
time at least, the clay responded to my
tolCh.
Ct look at the mothers face, drawn
with grief, and wrinkled with age.
She casts stony look at her dead son.
and suffers that which no one can see.
She knows Death, because she lives.